Monday, July 29, 2013

I think this is my first foray into the Monday Mixer... and is my official restart into flash fiction after I pretty much came to a screeching halt at the beginning of the year (or sooner then that based on my last blog post - wow it has been awhile).

Mirja'a faced the mish-mash remnants of her tribe. The men
and women before her were far from fine warriors, but this kludge was all that was left after the Bijeszio's attack on the
Strijela

"We may be few, but we are mighty!" she yelled across
the masses, her voice tremulous as emotion
broke through. "Tragedy stole so many from us, so many mighty warriors,
brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers."

The priests and priestess behind her began to ululate, the pain of the tribe
channeling through them. Their voices provided a backdrop as Mirja'a prepared
everyone for the final fight.

"The Bijeszio thought they broke us," Mirja'a
declared, strong and ringing. "They only made us stronger! Now is the time
to strike!" She brandished her bow and held it above her head.

The voices of her tribe echoed her call. It was time for Sha'donar. It was time for revenge.